Ghost Stories and Other Horrid Tales- Edited and Illustrated by Charles W Stuart. Folio Society 1997
“The all-night convenience store’s empty and no one is behind the counter. You open and shut the glass door a few times causing a bell to go off, but no one appears. You only came to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe a copy of yesterday’s newspaper – finally you take one and leave thirty-five cents in its place. It is freezing, but it is a good thing to step outside again: you can feel less alone in the night, with lights on here and there between the dark buildings and trees. Your own among them, somewhere. There must be thousands of people in this city who are dying to welcome you into their small bolted rooms, to sit you down and tell you what has happened to their lives. And the night smells like snow. Walking home for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It’s unendurable, unendurable.”
— Franz Wright, “Night Walk” (via blxckberrying)
you commit to memory the childhood home, the fuzzy carpet, your great aunt's voice. you love and miss breakfast on a saturday morning, the sound of television in another room, your favorite bedsheets. you repeat your favorite day again and again your head.
Tired of people talking about sex like Whatevvverrr get your head shrunken and attach it to a keychain
When we un-packed it, the Paris curator was embarrassed to discover lipstick marks on its cheek: someone in the Louvre had played at being Pygmalion—or Hadrian—and kissed it. And who could blame them? Up on a pedestal, center stage, the effect of its beauty was jaw-dropping.